Little Vampire 2: Curse of the Witch
by Onlyndreams145
Summary: Roockery is out for revenge on the former vampire family unbeknownst to them even if it means recruiting the same ancient witchcraft that begun the whole mess in the first place. And a woman discovers her treasonous past life, forbidden romance and more
1. Man, what a nightmare

She was dreaming. She knew she was dreaming for the sheer fact that she resided in a small condo in Dixon CA in the year 2000 with a Basset Hound cramming the foot of a twin bed resorting to curl herself into a ball that would be a marvelous feet for any contortionist. But somehow no matter how keenly these elements were in her mind as she laid her head down; how her drifting mind was determined to bring these concrete, solid facts of time and space into the realm of dreams so that they were indeed were dreams, the nightmare came to her. steady as clockwork. Carrying her to a decrepit church in Scotland, on a sea blacker than blood, on a night colder than death in the 16th century.

The torches of the angry mob lit the starless sky like a blaze of hellfire, Celtic voices rang in one harmonious roar as they somehow swallowed her whole and carried her to their purpose. As tangible as she was…as they were she was like a ghost. They did not see her or address her and yet they dragged her onward. Onward until they were outside of a cottage, the honeymoon cottage. "Murderer! Burn the witch!" they cried out, before coming to a standstill as the door creaked open and a man…or at least a semblance of a man stepped out and caused a wave of deadly hush to wash over the mob.

Tall and domineering he snared at them all; knowing, knowing that he was unmatched by any man brave or daring. She stared at his pale face in awe, bewilderment and terror.

"Where is Eleanora the witch?" one of the men spat towards the unfazed aristocratic being that towered over them. He raised his arms powerfully to reveal what they all had been to blind in their anger to see. A limp figure gracefully draped in his arms in a white gossamer veil and gown, a garland of flowers woven into fiery tresses. Two puncture wounds in the woman's neck with trickling crimson, and light shut eyes did not betray the woman's status. She was dead, dead by the hands of the creature that now held her as tenderly as if she were his own bride. A horrorstricken gasp derived from the crowd. "Here!" the creature hissed. "Here is the Eleanora Quwain that you seek!" he walked forward threateningly.

The vampire drew his pale lips into a thin line. "Eleanora did not heed my warning to stay in England. She returned to Scotland against my warnings." For a moment he looked upon the girl and addressed the mob again. Others of his kind begun landing around the consequent mob, transforming from bats into a human form, surrounding everything. "Let the fate of Eleanora be warning to all! Surrender Von and the amulet to me and no further damage shall be done!"

At that moment a vampiress landed at the side of the leader and rested an elegant fingered hand on his shoulder. This seemed to make the creature tighten his grip on the woman in his arms almost painfully. He looked up directly into his audience's eyes, for none gave the answer he sought. "You wish to revolt? Fine! From this moment forth I declare that the wrath of hell is upon you. For Lord Frederick Sackville-Bagg is dead, for I am newly baptized as Frederick the fearless. No witch can help you now." He looked directly into her eyes, into her soul.

And with a single nod of his head chaos ensued.

Ellie jolted with a start falling out of her bed and on to the floor of her apartment just as the alarm screeched 5:30. She floundered like a fish for a moment to find the snooze button from the awkward position she had manage to land in. Gunner begun to howl at the insistent beeping and she knew it was all too late and all was lost for that morning as her wicked upstairs neighbor shouted threats and obscenities through the ceiling. "Sorry Mrs. Walker!" Ellie called.

Once all was settled and she grabbed a quick shower and rinsed off the cold sweat her nightmare had left her in she poured herself a bowl of Fruit Loops and went over her lesson plans in her head. 5th grade wasn't exactly a hard thing to teach that is if you followed the cut and dry plans the district laid out for every other Tom, Dick and Jane who had an attendance list. Unfortunately Ellie wasn't any Tom, Dick or Jane! She was innovative, thrifty,…a principal's worst nightmare.

She looked over at her box of 50 cent books she had accumulated through countless garage sales and smiled to herself deviously. She would get them to like reading she just knew it. Teaching, was her calling she felt it!

Mrs. Walker met Ellie in the hall with her curlers, her robe and a scowl across her leathery face. Ellie tried in vain to plaster on a neighborly smile. "Good morning Mrs. Walker, beautiful morning we're having-"

"What's so beautiful about it?" she hissed, the mail dangling from her hand. "You think its beautiful to be woken up by a yowling animal at a godforsaken hour every godforsaken morning." She grimiest down at the hound who simply wagged his white end tail. "Its not exactly Mozart but-"

"If that mutt wakes me up one more time I will have the landlord put you out on the street! Do you hear me Eleanor?"

It wasn't an idle threat she knew that, but it didn't scare her. She had been put out before. Ellie had been roughing it her whole life. Ellie didn't belong to anyone, she never had. She had nothing to lose in her life except for Gunner. For anyone who knew Ellie and her upbringing they would say it was a wonder she never got into drugs or other street related things. Her mother was a druggie. So were a lot of her mother's boyfriends; Ellie must have had half-siblings somewhere but she ran away before any of them were born and no one had ever come looking for her.

She ended up at a place kind of like Fagan's in Oliver Twist just room and board and food. She stayed in the same town and went to school, no one questioned the absence of a parent on parent teacher conferences, and she stayed out of trouble just for that reason, so no one would ever have to ask questions. She got through college on a scholarship and odd jobs, and shear dumb luck and now she was a teacher. Ellie was happy with her life just the way it was. she didn't have a bitter bone in her body as far as that went.

She had thought to walk away but Mrs. Walker called after her. "There's a place in this world for a witch like you!"

No threat, no insult had ever effected Ellie in her resolve; but this, this was enough to strike a cord somehow. Trigger some pain inside her head, inside her heart. Some recollection.

"Witch." She repeated silently, after her neighbors retreating form.

"Good morning Miss Ellie." The children greeted happily as she walked down the halls before the bell rang. "Morning! Hope you're ready for a stellar day!" she greeted back with a smile balancing the box in her arms, black heels clacking against the white line on the grey, grey pavement. The hall monitor Nicki, stopped by Ellie's side and eyed her, with a sassy toss of her head. "Girl, if Jenkins hear the kids calling you Ellie again he'll have your ass in his office so fast." Nicki snapped her fingers to indicate just how fast.

Ellie shrugged. "Why shouldn't they call me Ellie? It is my name."

"As far as Jenkins is concerned your names Miss St James long as you here." She heightened the pitch of her tone at the end of the sentence. Ellie pursed her lips. "But that is such a mouthful if they want to get my attention. Besides I don't call any of them by their last names, I'm no better than they are." Then a laugh laced her tone as one of the kids waved at her from a distance. "Besides, unlike every other teacher here the kids don't go into shellshock if they see me outside of school." She waved back.

Nicki crocked her head again and took in the appearance of the young school teacher as she smiled maternally at the playground. She wore black pinstriped jeans looped with a shiny leather belt, a tailored white button-up shirt with a black vest, a choker with a blackhills gold heart pendant, studs in her ears (and at certain angles) glimmers of a stud in her naval, hair pulled back into a ponytail, light dusting of makeup. A classy look yet still fitting her age of late twenties. Nicki shook her head because all she could wear, or at least all that drew the eye was her traffic-cone orange vest.

"I hate you by the way." Nicki teased.

Ellie felt an uneasy pit in her stomach as she recounted her nightmare and all the anger that had manifest there between the mob and the vampire clan over that poor woman in white. Then what Mrs. Walker had said as she was leaving. She had almost been sure that had the W been changed to a B the term wouldn't have been so insulting. "Somehow Nicki I don't think you're the first one."

The bell rang at that moment.

OCTOBER- the red pen glided a whiteboard easily and she put the cap back on with a click and turned with opened arms. "Any thoughts, opinions?" she walked the length of the front of the room and scanned for any interested faces. "What does October say to you? What things do you think of when October comes around. Give me,… four things to work with." She waited. "Four, any four things."

One little hand went up. "Candy, Miss Ellie?"

"Candy! I can work with candy!" thus, it went up on the board,

"Vampires?" said another student.

Ellie exhaled sharply and tried to smile. "I can work with vampires too. As long as they don't have cavities. They get cranky if they have cavities." The class laughed.

"Costumes!"

"Witches!"

Her heart fell, there it was again. That awful cold feeling at the mention of witches. She shook it off quickly and begun to write subjects by all four words

CANDY- SCINENCE

VAMPIRES-ENGLISH

COSTUMES-ART

WITCHES- HISTORY

When she thought of what lesson she would teach for history she had chills; the Salem witch trials were never a light subject and with her dreams as they were, and with Bran Stolker's Dracula as what she planned to read for story time … oh why couldn't she just skip over this wretched month. It was the same, it was always the same the paper decorations all filled her with foreboding, but today felt different, like the omen of her dreams was fast approaching.

The bell rang before she had known it and she quickly reminded the children to choose a book from the box she had brought so that they could do their weekly logs. She erased the board easily with her back toward the door. The heavy fall of unfamiliar boots and a horrible gust of October wind made her holt with apprehension. Her head crooked slowly to look over her shoulder at her visitor. And what she saw unsettled her.

"May I help you?" she started toward the denim and leather clad abomination as his cigar smoke unwantedly filled the room. A plastered smile on her lips as the man stood stoic. "Parent-teacher conferences aren't until next week-"

"Are you Miss Eleanor Victoria St James?"

His baritone and the thickness of his English accent was heavy enough to put pressure upon Ellie's lungs, accompanied by cold and unfeeling eyes. She felt somehow all the distance in the world not be enough between her and this man yet still decorum made her inch closer to shake his hand. "Most people call me Ellie."

"Samuel Rookery at your service."

Her smile faded. The name sent chills down her spine like a shock. Like…. Like she remembered it. She cleared her throat. "And what can I do you for, Mr. Rookery?" she managed with a hitch in her throat.

His next words, though incomprehensible; would be the beginning of the end, the beginning of everything. The trigger to an old life long ago and long forgotten.

"I need your help, as I did many, many centuries before Eleanora." He stepped closer with foul breath. "Only you, only your clan and your witch craft can end this once and for all." He said with great passion.

"Stop what?" the question came out involuntarily as if nothing else but his answer mattered in that moment; suspicion hung in the air. This man; Rookery, gripped her arm and wrenched her closer.

"The Sackville-baggs."

 **please review**

 **I've loved this movie since I was a kid; that and Hocus Pocus so I've decided to kind of mix the two**


	2. I didn't know I could speak Gaelic!

"Flight 17 to Chicago is now boarding." The voice rang over the intercom warm and friendly as the airport bustled Ellie rummaged through her carry-on for the thousands time checking that she had everything; passport, boarding pass, I.D….mace… This Samuel Rookery wasn't exactly holding her hostage to go with him to a foreign country but she wasn't exactly going of her own free will either. He unnerved her enough to make her go, plus this nagging impulse inside her told her he would lead her where she needed to be.

Rookery tapped his foot impatiently next to the dog crate that sat beside him which held Ellie's fateful hound.

"I take it you're not much on flying." She tried breaking the silence, or at least the awkwardness of the situation.

The strange man only partially raised a thick eyebrow at her before withdrawing a large map that was folded and refolded multiple times. His finger traced a red line that he had made obviously before he collected her. "We'll stay the night here in Cambridge and get some supplies before we had off to our destination, here in Aberdeen."

She knew he wasn't addressing her, he didn't seem the type to make small talk, or any talk at all unless it benefited him; but still in any other situation these would be dream destinations. "I've never been to the highlands." She mused. "I've read about it in a book though; Outlander. Its…its about this woman after World War 2 who falls through stones and travels back in time to Scotland before Prince Charlie… of course time travel is…ridiculous."

She bit her lip as the man beside her gave her a distinct look to shut up. Ellie found herself wishing she was like the heroin in that book; Claire, brave and smart, and cunning. But she was Ellie, she wasn't Claire, she certainly didn't have medical knowledge, she was a 5th grade teacher, a trade that was utterly useless in dyer situations…she was utterly useless in dyer situations.

Rookery flinched. "Bloody hell!" he scowled. "Did you have to bring the dog? It smells like corn-chips."

Ellie reached down and pulled the crate closer to her. "He goes where I go." She said matter of factly. "He can't help how he smells! All basset hounds smell that way!"

Rookery rolls his eyes.

"At least he doesn't smell like garlic!" she quipped before a draft of his offensive breath comes her way as he turns his head. "What do you do eat it raw?"

"Yes."

His answer was curt. "Why?"

"It keeps vampires away." She blinks, he gave no indication that he was joking. He then adds. "Besides its good for the immune system, keeps you from getting worms."

Ellie's stomach turned, she briefly reached for the mace in her carry on, rethinking this whole thing but stood up instead folding her arms across her chest. "Why do you need me in Scotland anyway?'

"All in good time." Is all that he let on to.

She sighed. "We should have flown out of Vallejo."

It was known to any respective native Californian that Vallejo was the better, faster airport but Rookery had insisted they fly out of San Francisco; where the traffic is bad and the foot traffic is even worse. They had already been there four hours.

Ellie went over to the vending machine and pulled out a dollar bill for an Almond Joy bar that would have to constitute as breakfast and possibly lunch at this point. Incidentally there was a red faced little girl next to the machine, wipping tears from her eyes with balled fists. She couldn't have been more than four years old. "How could people be ignoring her?" Ellie thought.

Ellie knelt down and took the girl gently by the shoulders. "Whoa, hey sweetie. Are you lost? Where's your mommy and daddy?"

"Chan eil fhios 'am càit a bheil mo mhàthair is m' athair!"

It was a language she had never heard before… but somehow she understood and answered back flawlessly, mindlessly in Gaelic as if she had been accustomed to hearing and speaking the language her whole life. the little girl's eyes brightened at hearing her native tongue and took Ellie's hand so she could be guided to the front desk where Ellie had told her to go and where her parents were found.

The parents thanked Ellie profusely in Gaelic, impressed by her diction and then set off towards a new life. Ellie touched a hand to her throat as if it burned. It did burn; it burned with the words she didn't know how to say. She had never spoken a word of Gaelic before in her life! why would she need to? she grew up in Dixon practically in the slums; what use would there be to speak an old Scottish language.

What unnerved her still was not how well she spoke it or even understood it; but how comfortable she was when she started,… it was almost freeing…almost like magic.

A name came to her mind then, unbidden and without warning.

"Quwain."

~*~1749 Aberdeen~*~

The McTavish family crest was one of the most well-known if not in Scotland then certainly in Aberdeen, credited to belong to the most esteemed and respected clan of that era, with beautiful and bright colors of green and yellow with a symbol of an elk.

That was the colours that flapped so proudly in the wind on that brisk October morn when the sky was as dark as a raven and the tide rolled in an English ship. You could see the flags of Laird McTavish even over the foggy moors out the window of the cottage.

She stood in the doorway with her shawl wrapped tightly around her as the fires crackled inside, she heard the footsteps of another girl come up behind her, there were twelve of them to the cottage but she knew who it was without looking.

"Its going to be another bonnie day, aye?" Katie was a sunny lass and one of the youngest witches in their clan, Eleanora was rather fond of her if nothing else about their current predicament. "Another bonnie day of exile ye mean." She sighed and then met Katie's blue eyes over her shoulders.

"Another eight hung." Eleanora turned entering the cottage explaining to all around her. "I went into town yesterday morn, another eight witches hung, and five more under trial. Laird McTavish is really cracking down."

Her murky green eyes then shot to the eldest member who was sat dutifully wrinkled in a creaking rocking chair under a wool blanket, closest to the fire. "We are all sittin ducks if we dinna do something!" she exclaimed, before kneeling before the woman. "Grandmother, let's leave Scotland I beg you."

The other girls laughed at her plea. "Eleanora, I know ye are a dark lass; hair, eyes and all but must ye act dark too?" McKenna asked brushing out her long blonde hair from one of the straw heaps that served as a bed.

"Really, ye ne'er sing or dance with us anymore." Added another of the clan stroking a cat.

"Tis not the time to sing and dance. Do none of ye kin the seriousness of whats been goin on here? Its only a matter of time! The people of Scotland dinna see our kind as healers anymore, they think we are contracted by the devil himself—"

"Aye? And what are ye worried about?" Another chimed in. "Its not like ye have ever done a spell in yer whole life, I dinna even know why we let ye stay!"

There was a sting to that statement, it was partly true she had not been born with the gift even though she came from the bloodline of Quwain which bread a long line of grand witches but even so, in the clan she had the strongest knowledge of herbs and plants that was near equally matched or surpassed to any of the magical witches that had been adopted by her grandmother Helen Quwain over her twenty-five year life span. There clan was an estranged family in away despite all there teasings.

The grand witch then stood up causing the entire cottage to stir into silence and attentiveness to what was going to be said. "There is something in the wind today that suggest change." The Grand Witch started crossing the room with slow deliberate steps. "I sense the presents of two Englishmen in distress fast approaching—"

Before anymore of the vision could be heard by Eleanora, a burly figure tromping down the glen and on the growing heather caught her eye out the window walking against the wind much to her terror, she slipped out the back door to cut him off before he got too close to the haven.

The large man with the wild hair and beard took the petite form in his mass arms greedily, cranking his neck to kiss the pink lips to no great avail.

"Benjamin, what are ye doin here at this the wee small hours?" the girl managed as politely as she could given the physical struggle she was undergoing.

"I came to see you—are you entertaining?" his attentions briefly wavered at the sound of more than one voice coming from the warmly lit cottage.

In a quick movement she turned his giant face toward her in mock affection, the wooden stake slapping against her leg giving her an awful feeling of foreboding. Out of all the suitors she could have attracted, why did it have to be Benjamin Allan Rookery, the barbarian witch hunter? He just saw her in the town square one day and took an immediate fancy to her.

"Oh no, its just me and me grandmother." Eleanora stated cringing at the vague smell of sweat and cow shite that permeated his skin. He had a death grip on her waist. She supposed from afar they might have looked like very steadfast, true lovers.

"Have you thought on my proposal?" he questioned.

"Aye, I have."

"And?"

She met his gaze with every honest emotion she had as the wind kicked up, whispering all the horrible deeds he had done and would do to her family if he knew what she was. "I canna marry you. I dinna love you." Then the blunt reality hit her as she finally wiggled out of his grasp. "I dinna love anyone." The emptiness she felt was almost tangible.

"You'll love me when I rid Scotland of all the witches!" he reasoned, snapping her back to life, back to the danger at hand.

"Nay!...Nay, I think ye better go Benjamin, tis not proper for us to be out here alone." She prayed that playing the 'honor' card would get him to leave.

For a moment she saw two of his men appear at the top of the clearing and her heart stopped, but then was relived to find that they were just calling him away. Benjamin Rookery pulled away with an irritated sneer. "I must away my love but I will return to you soon." He swiftly picked up a trampled wisp of heather from under his boot and handed it to her as a token of his affection

"I look forward to it." She lied, hand pressed above her beating heart.

"Bloomin bastard on legs." She swore under her breath, watching him leave and went back inside.

Eleanora only had a moment to catch her breath as she crossed back over the threshold as a new query fell upon her ear. In the cottage now stood two cloaked male figures addressing the room…well the one with black hair was anyway. He was slender and tall, dressed in aristocratic clothing and he caught Eleanora's eye a bit more than his blonde companion.

Eleanora had a slight wonder as to why they would let anyone in the haven due to the current danger, but it was in the man's voice that he was no danger to them but a man who was in desperate need of help. A man who had traveled very far for it too. He was a Sassenach, an English gentleman; she had never seen one before.

She stood close to the wall and listened to what he had to say. Katie had never seen the dark lass so taken with anyone or anything before.

"Please, my brother Von and I have traveled a very long way to seek the aid of the Quwain witch, I have this daughter; my little Anna is very sick; I will pay any price to—" The Englishman stopped for a moment as twinkling dark green eyes captured his attention from across the room. In a moment's eternity they held each others gaze, before she shrunk back and he resumed. "To be able to make her well again."

The Grand Witch looked at the man appraisingly, rubbing her chin. "Any price ye say?"

"Yes, you're healing powers are legendary, any price!" he restated desperately.

The dark lass next to Katie now found herself trying to look at anything but the man she had been so drawn to looking at before as if it would be the ruin of her, there had been something like a dreadful shock that had traveled down her spine when her eyes met his, like the earth collided with the moon and ended her existence as she knew it. He was quite a few years her senior but she felt as if, if he met her eyes again she would lose her senses, and she didn't want that to happen.

The Grand Witch shook her head passively. "I am too old to travel milord."

The Englishman's face dropped. "But my daughter! Please I am in dire need!"

The Grand Witch was assisted back into the rocking chair and looked long and hard into the young man's face calculatingly. "I tell ye Milord I canna go as endearing as yer plight is, but with ye instead I send me granddaughter, Eleanora."

The room parted to display her half shocked by the choice. Eleanora felt her hands go cold; she wasn't a skilled witch; if she was a witch at all! She'd never been out of Scotland to send her to a sic girl for a fee would be a falsehood even with the skills she did have as an apothecary and the namesake of Quwain. Plus she couldn't even bring herself to look at the man again. Blood thundered in her ears.

"She?" The man inquired with an arched brow. "She cannot be a witch."

"And why not?" The Grand Witch chortled. "Ye didna think that all witches had warts and all did ye?"

The man bowed his head as the Grand Witch went on. "She is a great deal younger, and a great deal better to look at then me. But she is a Quwain lass sure enough. And that's what ye wanted, a Quwain lass."

"I canna go!" Eleanora said quickly, nervously, ringing her hands. Turning before her legs could give way. But a voice halted her, he was addressing her, only her, directly. He was right behind her. "Please, my daughter means a great deal to me, you would be doing me and my family a great service if you did."

She wanted to tell him, tell him that it was a mistake, a farce, a sham but when she turned herself to face him, when they were face to face and she saw the hope in his eyes, how weary and how far he had traveled for his child…she couldn't bring herself to disappoint him, whoever he was.

Eleanora swallowed. "If it means that much to ye…I can try."

He did all but kissed the hem of her gown in gratitude, and she felt shame. "Thank you miss, a thousand times thank you!" he took her hand to kiss the ivory knuckles and introduce himself. "I am Frederick Sackville-bagg of England and I am forever in your debt milady."

Eleanora's eyes traveled across the room to the Grand-Witch, to her grandmother who had to know somewhere in her mind that... this was the beginning of the end.

 **its not my best, its kinda campy, kinda Mary-Sue but since I'm not taking this story too seriously I don't care, it kinda works here and I did the "love at first sight" trope that I normally avoid like the plague but I kinda like it for this pairing and I've been working my butt off on an original story for months, I needed a break and I'm review hungry so if you can humor me please. And I hate to say I'm pretty proud this is kinda the only Frederick/OC fanfic out there, plus its a prequel-sequel, origin story thing-a-ma-jiggy...that's kinda interesting, right? Maybe not... :)**


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